In the Eyes of Gods and Men
by TARDIS-BadWolf
Summary: She wanted a change of pace, and he knew just where he wanted to take her. Alexandria is a safe and beautiful planet steeped in tradition and celebration, but when tradition goes too far and Rose finds herself being offered as Tribute the Doctor is forced to make a drastic decision that will change their relationship forever. Angst - Humiliation - Sacrifice - Dark.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

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It had been a bit of a change from their usual routine, what with the usual alien plots and running for their lives, and she had been pleased the moment she had stepped out of the TARDIS. He stopped himself from reading too much into that as he watched his companion bound ahead of him in the direction of the bazaar, unable to glower all that effectively when she had spun around to flash a brilliant smile in his direction, stretching out her arm and wiggling her fingers invitingly, calling out for him to hurry up.

When she had asked for a change of pace after a particularly exhausting week of saving alien worlds he had known exactly where he wanted to take her. Grinning broadly, he punched in the coordinates and set himself to work flipping switches and yanking levers with enthusiasm, giving her a bit of a show while insisting that it was a surprise when she wondered and pleaded for a hint of where he was taking her. She squealed as the TARDIS lurched into motion, her fingers curling around the edge of the jump seat, smiling that tongue-touched smile he loved so much, just for him.

He had caught her with one arm when she had made a mad dash for the door, insisting on a lecture about the importance of UV protection while she groaned and rolled her eyes, pretending not to listen while she tapped her foot. Not one to be discouraged, he tugged a jar from his bottomless pocket and swiped an airy substance across her forehead and down the length of her nose before she could wriggle away. She had punched him in the shoulder and ducked under his arm before he could release her, huffing about ruining her makeup with his alien fussing, but by the time she had fished her compact out of her pocket the balm had been absorbed fully into her skin without a trace, and she stuck her tongue out at him when he assured her with a shrug of his broad shoulders that she didn't need any of that muck anyway.

Once they were outside he made an effort to look impassive while he carefully catalogued the shock and delight that was written across her face, his hearts twisting pleasantly when she brought her hands up to press against her lips to suppress a high pitched sound of pleasure as she took it all in before she turned to force a tight hug round his middle, the leather of his jacket creaking softly as she pressed her body flush against his.

Two pink suns hung in the sky, one larger than the other, framed by wisps of golden clouds that streaked an almost purple sky. Alexandria, a small and young planet nestled in the hazy depths of the _Kakos Lykos_ nebula was a home to a deeply spiritual and romantic culture that would seem incredibly similar to the Greco-Roman era on Earth in terms of architecture, cuisine, lack of inhibitions, and a polytheist reverence of the seasons, although at this particular point in time the Earth would have hardly recovered from the Ice Age.

With his hand in hers, fingers intertwined, he wondered why he had not brought her here sooner. It was everything she loved, they had been traveling together long enough for him to know that, everything foreign and alien but not so much that she felt completely out of her element. Alexandria was perfect. A genius, him.

The Alexandrians stood a little taller than humans, but they were bipedal and had human-ish features that could be considered attractive, judging by the way his young companion was gawking at a couple of pretty young men. What skin was left uncovered by gauzy fabric that they had wrapped around their lithe forms was a coppery-red bronze that shone in the light of the pink suns as brightly as metal. He explained to her that the somewhat revealing clothing they wore was a single sheet of fabric that was carefully wrapped around them in something similar to toga with nothing but expert weaving to hold it all together. She had gushed at that and wondered about buying one, leaving him wondering what she might look like wrapped up like one of the locals.

They had long, slender fingers that she would notice right away as they were very animated when they spoke to each other, gesturing more and more wildly as the conversation grew more heated. He snorted as Rose very nearly swooned at the sight of their long, Elvish ears that were commonly decorated with hoops and bells. The men wore their dark hair cropped short and styled their beards in long braids with ribbons of gold and pink while most of the women wore theirs piled high on their head, glossy and purple and so dark it was almost black, with a shimmer of gold painted delicately on their bodies and faces to highlight their graceful features in a variety of patterns: around their eyes, across the bridge of their nose, lining their lips, and around the contours of full breasts that were scarcely covered by the draping fabric.

The children that were scampering around in the crowded market place wore the same style of wrapped clothing, although theirs seem to be knotted securely to keep them from unravelling off their androgynous bodies, entirely free of paint and bells and braids. He explained to a wide eyed Rose that they were without a definite gender until they reached puberty, neither male or female, until they had come of age.

"Is it safe?" She asked him as they strolled through the market arm in arm, breaking a stretch of companionable silence. "No political upheavals, no nanogenes, no nothin'?"

"Safe as houses." He said, looking a little wounded at the look of doubt on her face.

"Are you sure? I mean, really, properly sure?"

"Yes. For now, anyways."

"What does that mean? I'm warnin' you, Doctor! This had better not be the eve of some revolution, or a flood, or somethin'!" She warned, a hint of a smirk playing across her glossed lips.

"Nope. No war, no famine, nothing." She followed the direction of his gaze as he nodded in the direction of the largest, pink sun. "It'll all be swallowed up before anything like that can happen."

"What, seriously?" Her voice dropped to a whisper, all amusement gone from her face as she thoughtfully regarded the softly glowing, rosy orb in the sky. If not for his sensitive and big, daft ears he might not have heard her at all. "But that's terrible."

"Not really, no. Everything has a beginning and an end, Rose. Even Earth, you saw that for yourself." He squeezed her hand reassuringly, coming to a halt so that he could pull her towards him. He raised his eyebrows as she reluctantly met his gaze, her hazel-brown eyes looking a little watery compared the blue flints of his. He found himself wishing he hadn't said anything, cursing his fool mouth and hoping he had not gone and ruined everything, he drew her in for a gentle hug. "It's alright, look around. Happy people, Alexandrians. They evolve and they flourish, and sure, they'll wink out of existence eventually, but so does everything. They love life, love each other. It's a fantastic life."

He chucked her under the chin with his free hand, hoping his gentle smile reached his eyes, and held back a sigh of relief when he saw the hint of a smile returning to her curling lips. That was his Rose, compassionate to a fault but certainly made of sterner stuff. Another squeeze of her hand and he began pointing out different landmarks, naming the various statues of Gods and Goddesses that lined their path towards the center of town and held his head a little higher when he noticed she was paying rapt attention to him rather than searching the crowd for pretty boys.

Judging by the gold and pink ribbons and streamers that decorated every ledge and doorway and braided beard he realized with an inward groan that they had come during the most provocative festival this side of the galaxy. He had noticed too late just what had the market so brightly coloured and crowded, but Rose seemed to be enjoying herself, so he shrugged his shoulders back and continued walking. He had been aiming for late autumn, but he wouldn't tell her that, not with all the comments about his driving lately.

"Solstice of the Second Sun. A celebration of the coming of the blooming spring, the sowing of seeds, and the Consummation." He told her matter-of-factly, gesturing at the bundles of pink and gold that were strewn about everywhere as if that had been obvious.

"Consummation?" She parroted, sounding a little scandalized.

"Yeah, consummation. The joining of the Lovers." He clarified and gestured towards the pair of suns hanging so close together in the sky. "In the cycle of a year they will be separated until they are on opposite ends of the sky, lonely and bringing the darkness of winter. They come together like this in the spring and last throughout the summer before they are separated again. Helios and Helia, they call 'em." He said, pointing at the larger and smaller sun respectively.

"And the suns are the Lovers?" She said, her eyebrows raised and disappearing behind her fringe. "You mean, like Aphrodite and Zeus and all that?"

"Yep. The sun is usually a central part of theology on most planets, same as Earth. The sun, or suns in this case, bring light and warmth and mature the fields and chase away the darkness. The Alexandrians believe that the Lovers, after being separated for so long, come together in a passionate embrace and burn brighter than any other time of the year." He finished with a nod, puzzled and little distracted by the way her cheeks had flushed before she tore her gaze away from his.

"That's rather romantic, isn't it?" She mused, looking a little more carefully around her than she had when they had first begun their exploration, noticing for the first time that the crowds were made up mostly of couples with their hands clasped and tied together by a pink and gold ribbon. He thought he saw her glance down at their own interlocked fingers, but she had avoided his questioning gaze entirely so he could not be sure.

"Suppose so. There will be a communal sharing of what's left of the winter stores, a dance of sorts, and then a tribute consummation."

"A tribute what?"

He had said it so casually that she could not help but look back up at him, her face blazing the same colour of the suns she so adored while her teeth worried her bottom lip. He brought his free hand up to rub the back of his neck, grimacing as he wrestled with a way to explain it to her. She had never been one to get squeamish, she had seen far more graphic customs and cultures by this point, but with all the talk of romance and lovers he was not sure how to tactfully explain a public mating ritual. As open minded as his companion was, the 21st century was hardly the height of sexual liberation for humans, so he thought it was probably unlikely that she would shrug her shoulders and suggest they find good seats.

Before he found the right words, Rose found herself being approached rather suddenly by the locals, many of them presenting her with flowers and strings of colourful beads while others would bow and whisper prayers before reaching to touch her hair, the waves of overly friendly people coming between him and Rose until he had lost her hand and could no longer hear what they were saying.

He watched the exchange carefully, ready to jump in at the slightest sign of trouble, but her surprise and discomfort did not last long. Grumbling as Rose grew more comfortable with the odd customs and attention of so many people, smiling brightly at the children who tugged at her hands and giggled up at her while flashing him a _can-you-believe-this?_ grin as men and women alike came forward to greet her and touch her. He could hear his molars squeaking as he clenched his teeth tightly together, his expression stormy and mouth set in a tight line as one beautiful male came too close for his liking to kiss the back of her wrist, and then her forearm.

He had just about decided that enough was enough when a pair of women came forward to take her by both hands and after a few quick words he couldn't quite make out, began to lead her off the path. He was by her side in an instant, his hands on both her shoulders as he glared protectively at the alarmed but determined pair of women who had yet to release their grip on her hands.

"They said they want to dress me up!" Rose explained gleefully, sharing the smile both women wore. "Dressed all wrong for this, what do ya call it, Solstice?"

He had been about to object, having half a mind to drag her right back to the TARDIS where there were no half dressed women, or men, and no beads and flowers and tightly packed crowds, when the women began to tug at her again. That would have been the last straw if he had not felt her step out of the protective reach of his arms. Calling back words of reassurance, she waved him towards the pavilion they had been heading towards and said she would catch up, and then she was gone, lost in the crowd as quick as you please.

He did not know how long he stood there, as stony and unmoving as the statues that beckoned him towards the center of the city while the sea of people broke around him like waves over rocks as they continued on their way. He had hoped that Rose would come bouncing out of the crowd after just a few minutes, preferably fully dressed and ready to take his hand and suggest they head back to the TARDIS. Of course, that didn't happen. Concern evolved into frustration and then fury, his blue eyes blazing heatedly as he began to march towards the pavilion on his own, his hands fisted and shoved so deep in his pockets he could feel the leather straining over his shoulders.

How many times had he told her - begged her - warned her not to wander off? Rule One, he had told her the very first day, he had. Well, it was more like Rule Two, but what did that matter? He had told her quite clearly and more than once that when it came to alien planets and unfamiliar timelines that she was to do as she was told and not to go traipsing about on her own. It was dangerous, didn't she understand that? She knew next to nothing about this planet, and while he had chosen Alexandria based on how safe and peaceful it was, there was no way she could know that. Not that it mattered, she was always wandering off, wasn't she? Rolling those big doe eyes of hers, flipping her hair and sticking out that infuriating pink tongue like some child, a child who knew no consequences, who thought she had him wrapped up tight and neat around her beautiful little finger.

Oh, Rose Tyler, she was in for it alright, really in for it this time. Grumbling as he stalked towards the central gathering, he imagined everything he might do to her when he had her back in the TARDIS, away from prying eyes.

There would be no batting her eyelashes while murmuring words of apology this time, oh no. He'd have her pressed against one of the coral struts she was always carelessly tossing her jacket over no matter how many times he nagged at her - or perhaps against the console once he had sent them hurtling back into the Void, keeping her in place with an arm on either side of her, or a maybe his hands on her hips if he felt the need to keep her still.

He'd lean in close, ignoring the boundary of personal space until he could feel her shallow breath on his skin, nose to nose to make sure he had her full attention. She'd probably try to push him away, her small hands useless as they pounded against his shoulders and chest when she found she couldn't duck out from under the circle of his arms. She'd close her eyes, turn her head away, but he'd cup her face - and oh, it would be warm and flushed and as pink as the suns in the sky - in his large, weathered hands and would not allow her to look anywhere, or at anyone, but him. He would drill it into her pretty blonde head until he was satisfied she had gotten the message. And if that didn't work, well...

Someone was speaking to him. He had let his imagination run so far away from him that he had not realized he had reached the decorated plaza. When he didn't answer, the young woman gave him a puzzled look before kissing him on the cheek and draping a lei of blossoms over his head before he knew what she was doing and then hurried away. Tearing the flowers from around his neck, he brought his hands up to scrub his face and massage his temples, feeling his ears grow hot as he attempted to ignore the primal direction his thoughts had been headed in. What was wrong with him? Of course he could never - _would_ never - allow himself to lose control like that. He had never been that close to Rose, not like that, and he hated the way his hearts pounded at the thought of her trapped and so very, very close to him. It had to be the festival, the air was heavy with incense and already couples were sensually dancing all around him, it was affecting his state of mind. It had been a mistake to bring her here, to have stayed once he realized what time of year it was. Foolish old man, him.

Well, that was it then, as soon as she had found her way back to him he would insist on heading back to the TARDIS. He'd tell her about the ritual of tribute consummation and he was sure that she would follow, blushing brightly and peeking through her fingers as they pushed past the many couples that clung to each other in the crowd. And he would speak to her, give her a proper lecture, but perhaps in the galley where he could put a table between them. All he had to do was wait.

It seemed like hours had passed and he wondered if his deeply ingrained sense of time had gotten muddled somehow. He knew he was easy to spot, given his daft old face and his out of place leather jacket, and she would come to him as soon as she saw him. Rose was always running off on her own, much to his dismay, but she always came back. Scanning the crowd of lovers and dancers, he tugged at the lobe of his ear and frowned at the distinct lack of Rose. More and more incense was being lit and already there were men and women in extravagantly wrapped silk climbing the dais.

Something was happening.

The Doctor watched with some confusion as a large, sheer screen of silk was carried and set up on the stage, a filmy backdrop that stood several meters high and glowed with the light of a fire behind it. He brought his hands up to the sides of his head and groaned, realizing too late what was happening. He had gotten it all wrong when he described the events of the festival to her, he was getting old and senile and careless.

The tribute Consummation came _first_, and _then_ the dance, and _then_ the sharing of the remains of the winter stores. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid, daft old man, him.

He grit his teeth as he watched the torches be lit and turned around to frantically look through the crowd one more time. She wouldn't want to see this, _he_ didn't want her to see this, but there was still time to get back to the TARDIS with everyone's dignity intact.

Of course, he had known she was near before he had even seen her, he knew the pattern of her beating heart as well as he knew his own and he could hear it over the raucous noise of the crowd. She stood out easily as she was led through the sea of celebrating people, all pink and yellow and fair against a backdrop of exotic copper and purple, and oh, she had never looked so beautiful.

She really had been taken to be dressed up, and he wondered why he was not prepared for the sight of her draped in the traditional Alexandrian garb. They had wrapped her in yards of filmy, feather light silk that was the softest colour of pink he had ever seen. There were bells that hung from the hem of the draped material that tinkled whenever she moved, making her every step musical. Even her hair had been styled with the utmost care, drawn up in a delicate pile and held with an ornate, rose-gold comb. She spotted him almost immediately and flashed him a brilliant tongue-in-teeth smile as she gave him a shy wave that he found himself returning without thinking. It was not until they had ushered her up the first few steps of the dais that he remembered what was going on around him and why he had to get her away from this place.

"Rose!" He shouted as he attempted to shove past a line of guards that had been posted to protect the Clergy and their honoured guest. After being thrown back a few times, his threats falling on deaf ears, he swung around to watch with dread as the roar of the crowd dropped to a reverent murmur as an older man stepped forward, his arms held wide as he called out to his beloved people.

Rose was standing just behind him, looking positively giddy as the ceremony began. This would not be the first time she had been honoured as a Goddess, or a sprite, or some other mythical creature on an alien world where her yellow hair was considered a mark of holiness, and she had come to enjoy it, keen to rub it in whenever the locals were more impressed with her than the great and egotistical Doctor.

He was shouting her name, but she could not hear him from as far back as he was. Shoving his way through the crowds to get to the front of the congregation, he groaned in dismay as the Priest reached for Rose's hand, inviting her to stand alongside him. He christened her Helia, and the Doctor's shouts of warning were drowned out by the roar of the crowd around him. Couples thrust their bound hands into the air and chanted her name, and all he could do was shout into the noise and wave his arms and hope that she understood. When she caught sight of him she smiled widely, her teeth pressing into her bottom lip as she discreetly gave him two thumbs up before composing herself to stand up straight and returned her attention to the Priest.

A young man was brought forward to be named Helios, dressed similarly with jangling bells. He was definitely pretty as well as ridiculously well muscled and looked to be about her age. Rose giggled and glanced down at the Doctor to give him a wink, and he felt like he could have cried.

It all seemed to be going well, with Rose pleased as punch when the young man came forward to kiss the back of her wrist, and then her forearm the way she had seen so many men kiss her and other women that day. It was all a laugh until a pair of women came forward and began to tug and unravel the draping fabric from around her waist, a third standing just behind her with a large bowl balanced in her arms.

"Oi!" Rose shouted, grabbing a handful of the delicate material to hold firmly around her waist before the second woman came forward to pull her hand away, watching with an encouraging smile as the first woman continued to unwind the endless train of ringing silk. She yelped as the loose material slid down her waist to expose her breasts, earning a gleeful cheer from the crowd. With one arm pressed clumsily across her breasts she watched in horror as the young man on the stage was being undressed in the same way, although he was smiling broadly and holding out his arms with a reverent expression as two women delicately peeled away the wrapped material from his toned abdomen.

Tearing her attention away from the man to her left, she searched the crowd again for the Doctor, and the panic in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Her struggling and cursing and threats were ineffectual, and she could feel hot, angry tears burning in her eyes as she struggled to cover her breasts and clutch at the fabric of her woven robe tight against her belly. Her Helios was already naked, gazing out at the crowd with pride as he joined a chorus to sing a hymn. With a few choice curses, she grit her teeth as she yanked on the fabric hanging loosely around her hips, doing her best to keep it from unravelling. Yelping in surprise, Rose whirled around on the spot, staring daggers at the young girl that had drawn a line of paint down the length of her spine, her fingers glistening with the golden liquid that she had scooped out from the bowl with her hand.

"Doctor!" Her eyes scanned the crowd desperately and she whimpered when she realized that she could not see him anywhere. That big, black coat would stand out for miles, and he had just been standing in front of her, hadn't he?

"... And with the blessings of Gods and men upon them, this man and this golden woman become vessels! A sanctuary for the Lovers who would bring light and prosperity to our world!" The priest sang out to the congregation, his thin arms thrown wide, looking very much like a conductor guiding the crowd into a melodic prayer. "May their tribute be passionate and fertile so that we may all feel the blessing and ecstasy of Helia and her Helios!"

"There won't be no blessings, your worship." The Doctor called out in a strained voice from where he was standing, halfway up the steps of the dais. It had been easy enough to break through the first wall of bodies with his rage propelling him, but they had all caught up with him before he reached the stage, overwhelming him with numbers. Several pairs of hands gripped his leather jacket tightly to hold him back while a few of their wicked spears crossed to bar him from reaching her.

Choking on a swallowed sob, Rose nearly collapsed to her knees as relief washed over her in one great wave. She was safe now, he had come for her, just like he always did. She had never doubted him, not really. Her Doctor, ever the hero.

"There must be." The Priest answered him softly, his thin eyebrows nearly disappearing in the crinkles of his forehead as he considered the strangely dressed man. "Never before have we been so blessed, we are so fortunate to have found her. Golden hair and eyes full of fire, she is a gift from the Gods! The true likeness of Helia - it is a _sign_. Her tribute will ensure the prosperity and safety of the wombs of our women, and the wheat in our fields."

"Sure, sure. But you see, you've got one little problem."

"And what's that?"

"You've got the wrong Helios. She's mine."

* * *

**A/N: This is my very first attempt at writing the Ninth Doctor, and I am so nervous about it. It was started out as a story with Ten, but I changed my mind as I was writing as I found his spastic personality didn't quite suit the story I am trying to tell.**

**"Kakos Lykos" is greek for "Bad Wolf". **

**I had originally planned for it to be a one-shot but I just kept writing and it was getting so long, so I decided to work with chapters once again.**

**I am beginning to fall into a bit of a trend of starting stories and not finishing them in order, but I promise I'll be coming back to them. After spending a week in the hospital I struggled with a bout of writer's block, and this is what came out of my attempts to get past that once I got home.**

**I know there are quite a few Spring Festival stories out there, but I was hoping that I could create a world with a little more detail and a little more darkness. The next chapter is not going to be sweet, or kind. As for a happy ending, well, I haven't decided yet. You will have to review and follow the story to find out.**

**Cheers. TBW.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

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_"You've got the wrong Helios. She's mine."_

It was all he could do to ignore the shocked expression on Rose's face, his blue eyes cold and fixed on the baffled Priest, every line in the old man's face creasing as he shifted uncomfortably from behind his pulpit under the weight of the Timelord's icy stare.

"You disgrace Helia with this... This _boy_." He was growling, spitting out the words as if they were poison.

"She has been given!"

"She's not yours to give." The Doctor answered in a tight voice, his hands fisting at his sides.

"The ritual has begun. She has been given." The elderly Priest insisted hotly, gesturing wildly in the direction of the great bowl of paint that was balanced in the arms of a small girl, the youngest of the women serving as maids to the Temple that loomed in the distance. "What has been given cannot be taken back! She must pay Tribute, or bring death and destruction upon us all. The Gods _will_ have her, one way or another."

The joyous cries of the crowd had become a cacophony of anger and fear as they watched from below, many of the couples still thrusting their ribbon-bound hands into the air as they chanted and prayed and demanded Tribute. Spears seemed to come from nowhere, closing in around the dais and gleaming in the light of the two suns, too dangerous and too many to push through, a wall that would protect them against the rising chaos while at the same time tightening the noose the Doctor could feel cinched and chafing around his neck, and by the looks of things, was becoming increasingly uncomfortable for the members of the Clergy as well. The Priest swung his gaze from the Doctor, to the crowd, and then to Rose, his long fingers steepled, large hands quaking with the effects of old age as his eyes rolled back, his lips moving in a soundless, desperate prayer.

"He hasn't been." The Doctor replied calmly, nodding in the direction of the un-dressed boy that stood frozen and semi-erect and so very close to Rose, his copper toned skin rich and glossy but completely untouched by the golden paint that marked his companion as a gift to the Gods. "It should be me standing there, not him. _Me_. It ain't proper, giving her away when she belongs to another." He wasn't breathing, could not breathe, even as he forced the words that would sway this entire debacle in his favour. "Would you give the sun to the moon, your Worship? How much do you think your Gods would like that, hm?"

He could not look at her, did not dare to even glance in her direction. With a spear pressed between his shoulder blades and the murmur of the crowds becoming almost deafening in his ears, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. There was no way out of this, none that he could see anyway, and so far as he could remember from what he knew about the doomed culture of Alexandria, there had never been a failed Tribute in their recorded history. In the early days of their cultural development there might have been a hesitant participant every now and again, but he or she usually relented and had gone along with the ceremony to avoid the alternative; those that refused the duties of their christening were offered to the God's as Blood Tribute before another would be named and christened and given in their predecessor's stead. Boys and girls, men and women, hundreds had been given in the name of the Gods without deviation or interruption. With the TARDIS much too far away and any chance of escape dwindling with each and every guard and spear that came to surround the dais, he could see no alternative. She had been given, and he could not spare her that.

However, he had really made a presumptuous, territorial arse of himself in claiming her absolutely, publicly, and without her permission. Their relationship had never been like that, and while he had found himself frustratingly and increasingly preoccupied by her, he could not speak to the extent of her feelings and doubted very much anyway that she could feel much beyond friendship for a daft, old alien who looked old enough to be her father. Her friendship, her trust, that had been more than he could ever have asked for and was certainly more than he deserved, but here he was now, declaring that she belonged to him as if that were the most natural thing in the world. The boy they had selected as Tribute was nice enough, beautiful in an exotic way, pretty and perhaps a few years younger than her, but someone he was sure Rose would fancy herself in different circumstances. That boy was a fair alternative to his own big ears and pale, razor-knicked old face. He had reacted without thinking and found himself claiming her as if he had the right and he was not sure there was any going back now, no way to change his mind after the spectacle he had made out of the both of them.

No, he did not dare to look at her, not now and perhaps never again after this. If she looked disappointed, if she looked disgusted by the idea of it - by the idea of _him_ - he was not sure he could survive it.

The chanting of the crowd softened, becoming the same joyous and encouraging cheers from before, all the fear and anger gone away and replaced by the thrill of these two strange and foreign lovers being brought together by the grace of the Gods they sought to honour with this ceremony. He could barely hear it though, the sound of all those voices raised in song seeming far away from him as he stared directly into the eyes of the Priest, much to the confusion and discomfort of the guards and surrounding Clergy. A few minutes dragged by, Rose called out to him, and the Priest held up one thin hand to signal his release.

"Then come to her, and be given freely."

Just like that the spears that had been holding him back were retracted and he nearly stumbled as he scrambled up the few remaining stairs and across the platform as the bewildered boy at her side was helped back into his wrapped clothing and guided off the platform. A pointed look from the Priest signalled that it was time to resume the ceremony and a pair of women came to him in reverent silence to lead him across the stage with gentle pressure on the backs of his arms until he stood shoulder to shoulder with Rose, their long-fingered hands reaching to gingerly tug at the collar of his jacket until he shrugged it back over his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground heavily around his feet, the sound of the leather crumpling at his heels drowned out completely by the roar of the crowds.

"What are you doing?" Hissed Rose, her eyes wide and wild as he continued to let himself be stripped. "This is part of the plan, yeah?"

There was faith in her voice, faith in him, and he cringed at the sound of it.

It took everything he had to meet her gaze, his mouth set in a grim line, shaking his head from side to side ever so slightly so that only she would see. There was no plan, no plan other than this. Coward that he was, he could not look at her for long, could not bear to see her look of disbelief crumple into one of panic, fear, or rage. Instead, he dropped his gaze to the swell of her bosom and swallowed against the dryness of his mouth when he saw the hint of pink behind her forearm, the faint blush of an areola not quite hidden behind the arm she had pressed protectively over her breasts. He had felt such panic and rage when the ritual had first begun that he had not been able to see anything other than her wide, disbelieving eyes, and he had been running before he had the chance to even catch a glimpse of her.

And now, with her arms so tightly wrapped around herself, knees tucked to try hold together the delicate material that hung loosely around her hips, he found that he had to remind himself to breathe. As the two women that had been working at undressing her hesitantly came forward once again, whispering encouraging words and pleas for her to stand up to be stripped of her clothing, he wanted nothing more than to pull her into the protective circle of his arms and shield her from the reality he had landed them in. A glance in the direction of the Priest, who was now standing alongside an armed soldier, sent chills down the length of his spine, knowing what would happen if she remained uncooperative for too much longer.

"Rose."

He said her name softly, not unkindly, and just as he knew she would she had tilted her chin just far enough to gaze up at him, her trust in him automatic and unshaken, or so he hoped. He kept his gaze level with hers as one of the women tending to him tugged his shirt up to the level of his waist, waiting for him to crouch just a bit so that she could tug it over his head and arms, leaving him bare-chested and more naked than Rose had ever seen him. Ignoring the other young woman that had come around the curiously fumble with his belt buckle, he extended one hand towards her and gave her a small, encouraging nod. He held her gaze for what felt like an eternity, his fingers aching as he stretched himself as far as he could towards her until finally she reached out far enough that the tips of her fingers skimmed over of his, her expression reading of confusion and hope and faith in him as she was helped to her feet.

The two women that had been working to prepare her for the ceremony stood just behind her, silent and uncertain, until the Priest gestured towards their charge with a certain finality that indicated that they had best finish preparing their Helia with haste. Before Rose could react to the two pairs of hands that were now hovering above her hips he twisted his fingers between hers and squeezed softly, hoping the familiar ritual would be enough to ground her.

"Just look at me, Rose. Me and no one else."

She could just barely reach, but she clung to his hand so tightly that he could feel the slight hitch in her breath when she felt their hands on her, their red-copper fingers seeking the loose ends of the material she had been trying to keep wound over her hips and thighs. He could feel the tension in her as the time consuming process of unwinding the sheer material began again, but to her credit she did not flinch. With her attention fixed solely on him, her lips pressed tightly together, she seemed to lose herself in the stormy depths of his eyes, her lashes fluttering a bit at the musical sound of the last few layers of material falling away from her hips and thighs, each of the bells tinkling beautifully as she was completely unwrapped and exposed, much to the delight of the onlooking crowd.

He had hardly noticed the feeling of his belt being pulled clumsily through belt loops before the button and zip at the front of his trousers was undone, his attention fixed on the flushed face of his young companion in an effort not to let his gaze wander too far below the bare curve of her shoulders. Even with his eyes fixed on hers, his peripheral vision allowed him a much broader view than her human eyes would allow her of him, and it took every ounce of discipline he had in him not to explore her further. He had seen the way the last of the ringing material had slipped in a loop around the curve of her hips, and the way the bells had popped one by one from between her thighs as she had relaxed her legs to rise from where she had been crouched beside him. When it was his turn to be stripped completely the rustle of the denim being pulled down the length of his legs had distracted Rose long enough that she had seen two pairs of long, dark fingers curling under the elastic waistband of his pants before she had shut her eyes tightly, teeth pressing into her bottom lip as her face reddened, her fingers tightening around his.

He stepped out of his trousers and pants without taking his eyes off of her, his boots and socks coming next, earning another loud cheer from the crowds circling the dais. Completely unconcerned with how very naked he was, he had kept his attention on Rose, squeezing her fingers whenever she squeezed his, both amazed and ashamed that she could even stand the feeling of his calloused skin against hers. She was clinging to him as best she could, her one hand firmly wrapped around his while her other arm protected the swell of her breasts, her eyes still closed as the familiar chanting began, earning the smallest of whimpers from her as the three women returned with the bowl of paint between them, looking hesitant as their fingers skimmed the golden surface.

"Just keep your eyes closed, Rose." He said softly, giving her hand a squeeze just as one young woman reached to reinforce the golden line of paint that was drawn down the length of her spine, sending shivers through her as she clutched his hand even tighter than before. He held her hand for as long as he was able, squeezing her fingers and massaging the back of her hand with his thumb until he was forced to release her so that the women working on him could go about painting him under the watchful gaze of the old Priest while the Clergy surrounding them began to chant in unison.

It was just as well, as the young girl that had been charged with painting Rose had finished with her back and had come around to begin working on her front and he had no choice but to look elsewhere. He had turned his gaze away from her just in time to see Rose reluctantly lower her arm from her breasts, giving him a brief view of two small, pinkened nipples centred on the two perfect, milky globes she had been ineffectually hiding behind her forearm before he turned his back to her. He turned to face forward just in time to watch as the old Priest came forward and threw his arms wide, christening him Helios while he was being painted, making it quite clear that there would be no backing out for either of them now.

He watched quietly as one of the women dipped their hands into the large bowl of golden ink, scrutinizing every naked inch of him thoughtfully, before the two of them came forward with the large bowl being held just within reach. With their fingers they drew fantastic patterns over his chest, tracing the hard lines of his pectoral and abdominal muscles, his diaphragm, the slope of his thin abdomen before continuing down over his hips and legs. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched for as long as he dared as the trio of women circled Rose appraisingly, speaking in soft, soothing voices as they encouraged her to hold out one arm, or spread her legs. As the hand of the youngest girl slipped between her thighs, his gaze was torn away from her parted lips as she inhaled sharply, his two hearts beating erratically in his chest.

He was a much more cooperative participant, raising up his arms and spreading his legs and fingers whenever he was asked to, his cool eyes scanning the growing crowds for any potential route of escape while his skin prickled at the feeling of the paint being drawn along the sinews of his biceps and forearms, down the length of his spine, drawing out the curve of every corded muscle between his inner and outer thigh, sparingly marking his face, and daringly traced around the base of his shaft. He was not at all squeamish in the face of the crowds filling the plaza, but the thought of a very naked Rose standing less than a meter away from him had rendered his mouth dry and brightened his complexion just slightly. Looking down at himself, all hard lines, scars, and rough angles, he groaned inwardly at the thought of how much nicer it would have been for her if he had let the young Adonis play his part in this whole charade, his skin seeming soft, gleaming and unmarred, ruby satin as opposed to the worn leather of the interfering Doctor's. An attractive boy with clean and gentle fingers, wouldn't that have been preferable when compared to the calloused, blood-stained hands he had to offer?

While pondering this, the sound of ringing bells and Rose's shallow breathing caught his attention but he was steered away from his companion before he could look around. More smiles as the busy hands of the Temple maids went back to the work of preparing him, the younger one standing off to the side with her arms full of dark fabric, the bowl having been taken from her and set aside once the painting had been finished. Lifting his arms up, he watched as the delicately folded pile began to unravel as the two older women circled around him, ducking under his arms as they twisted the material over and around his hips, clothing him from the waist down in the wrappings that Rose had loved so much, although the intricate weaving came no higher than his navel. When they were finished he looked down at himself with raised eyebrows, the many layers granting him a bit of dignity as the navy blue material - a bit simple, but the best that could be done on such short notice, he supposed - became rather opaque with each complimenting layer. Strangely, painted up like a canvas and dressed in such delicate material, he felt more naked than before.

The Priest was talking again, but his attention had been fixed on Rose as soon as he'd been permitted to turn around; given the distance in her eyes he doubted she was hearing one word of the melodic speech, but that was probably for the best considering what was being described as their imminent joining. Her hands were pressed between her breasts, clutching at the bell-tassled material she had been dressed in for the celebration as tightly as a child might cling to a security blanket, and his heart ached at the thought of how very young she was. Golden streams and starbursts decorated her arms and shoulders before dipping and hiding beneath the clinging material they had wrapped her in once again, and he shuddered at the mix of relief and disappointment that brought colour to his cheeks and speed to his pounding hearts, and not for the first time that day he felt disgusted with himself.

More words, more chanting, more torches, and he found himself staring out wordlessly at the sea of cheering people in the hopes of finding some previously overlooked hole in their defences, just wide enough for him to pull Rose through before they made a mad dash for the TARDIS.

He could almost see it, her hand tightly held in his as her beautiful legs propelled her forward, nearly matching his speed if he let her, while yards of the pink material she had been so expertly wrapped in unwound and trailed behind her in long, brilliant streamers. The intricate wrapping would be all but undone, hanging in tempting loops from her curves to show off so much flawless pale skin, clinging and barely intact by the time they had reached the TARDIS. He'd reluctantly drape his heavy jacket over her shoulders if he had managed to grab it before their escape, and she would smile a beautiful smile as the weight of relief brought her to her knees, adrenaline sending shivers through her small frame as she relaxed against the door. How many times had it come to that? They had been in some truly sticky spots more than once, and before he knew he for certain that he would be able to save her he often wondered if that would be the day that she would decide that she had finally had enough of this life, if it would all become too much for her at long last and she would ask him to take her home; it never was, not so far, and she had never looked at him with any doubt of whether or not she thought she belonged with him once they were safe in his wonderful blue box, but that had been in the wake of him doing something impressive and saving her, or her saving him, and she would be comforted in knowing that she and her Doctor had managed to keep things from spinning completely out of control. So far as he could see, his blue eyes squinting as the light from the late afternoon suns flashed off countless blades, there simply was no way out this time and the sinking feeling in his gut made him doubt the outcome would be the same.

So lost in thought he was, he had not even noticing the weight of one trembling hand on his shoulder until he saw the same quaking digits descend carefully to hold a trembling Rose in place. The roar of the crowd came back to him just in time for him to hear the sudden and abrupt silence that followed it, filling his ears with only the sound of her breathing. Quietly, torches were being carried off the dais to be set up behind the large screen, the shadows of so many Temple maids flaring in dark shapes across the stretch of fabric as they set up a primitive sort of projector; if he had not been so angry and nervous and full of fear, if Rose had been safe at his side and they were standing together as onlookers in the crowd, he'd have told her it simply ingenious, and fantastic - technology far beyond it's time. Brilliant, the Alexandrians were. She would smile and agree with him before he would usher her back to the TARDIS before the ceremony became too graphic and all would be well.

"...So it has been from the very beginning, we gather in the wake of the last winter moon to give ourselves over gladly unto the mercy of the Gods! We raise our voices together to worship in the light of each sun and celebrate the reunion of the Lovers, who have yearned for each other for so long. Gladly given, -" The Doctor snorted at that, earning the briefest smile from his companion and a few glares from the surrounding Clergy "- We offer Tribute in honour of their consummation!"

The hands of the Priest slipped down from their shoulders to seek out the hands of the Doctor and Rose, thin fingers squeezing tightly as he murmured a chant under his breath that the crowd already knew to follow. A sea of purple-black rippled and shone as every head was bowed in prayer, a hushed murmur echoing throughout the pavilion for a short time before the first pair of ribbon-bound hands rose into the air, and then another, and another, until each and every couple - some very old, and some very young - offered up their love in earnest. Carefully, Rose's hand was placed in his, and he curled his fingers around hers without prompting and let himself be turned towards her as she was guided gently towards him. Those eyes, brown and gold and wide and trusting, he could lose himself in those eyes. There was a song on Earth about brown-eyed girls, and he wondered absently if Rose had ever heard it. She was watching him, all of that distance he had seen in her face earlier seeming to crack and break and shatter as she tilted her head back to stare up at him, her brow knitted as she looked him over, alarmingly seeming to be looking _through_ him, her dark eyes fixed on the icy blue of his, searching for something he was sure he did not have.

"In honour of Helios and Helia, this man and this woman have come together, and in their joining Alexandria will know true peace and prosperity. He is hers, and she is his, as it was always meant to be."

It was wrong, it had all gone wrong, but he clutched her hand tightly the moment his eyes found hers and swallowed against the lump in his throat. She was beautiful, his Rose, and he was so ashamed. Standing opposite her now, her hand so small and warm against his own, his knees felt weak under the weight of just how unworthy he felt. She was everything that was good and kind and soft and warm and right in the Universe, and he was everything she was not.

The cheers of the crowd had become deafening and he could feel the thrum of her heart picking up speed as she sucked in a deep breath and tightened her grip, knowing somehow that this is where everything would change for them.

Golden cords cracked and snapped in flux as the they thrashed unseen above them, merging and diverging and converging in a web of so many possible futures that had been created in the wake of those two words that had changed everything: _she's mine_. Too many to count, far too many and not enough time - never enough time - for him to search and examine to seek the safest path. He had done nothing to deserve her, and in fact he had done everything there was to do to cement that fact that he _could_ _never_ deserve her, and yet here she was, all pink and yellow and brave and trusting.

What happened next would serve as one more nail in the coffin that awaited him somewhere out there in time and space, reinforcing his inevitable damnation, and as much as he hated himself for it, he squeezed her fingers one more time and shivered at the feeling of just how right it felt to have her hand in his.

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**A/N: Oh, I am so glad to have finished this chapter and apologize for the wait! So much has been going on in my personal life and it has really made it hard to take the time and sit down and write. I want to thank each and every one of you for the reviews and messages I received regarding this story, it really does bring me such joy and I feel so inspired every day, it really is a wonderful thing to wake up to. **

**The next chapter will probably be the last, and I hope it will be everything you want it to be. As always, if you have suggestions I would love to hear them. I will do my best to have it published soon. **

**For now, I hope you enjoy this chapter and look forward to hearing your thoughts. Please, please leave me a review if you are enjoying this story so far. It means so much to me.**

**Cheers. TBW.**


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